


The Execution of the Knife of Dunwall

by BID



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, No DOTO, No Major Character Death, Noble!Thomas (Dishonored), Post-Dishonored 2 (Video Game), overpowered canon magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 11:32:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19440604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BID/pseuds/BID
Summary: Thomas stands in the execution square of Coldridge.Of course, he’s always thought that there is a possibility he’d land here, and he’s always assumed that there is little question on what side of the square he would be standing. He’d never thought to be just another noble in the crowd, let alone of the very same crowd that is watching the Knife of Dunwall walking onto the pedestal with bated breath.





	The Execution of the Knife of Dunwall

**Author's Note:**

> Got no Beta. If someone wants to do that, feel free and I'll fix this up!

Thomas stands in the execution square of Coldridge. 

Of course, he’s always thought that there is a possibility he’d land here, and he’s always assumed that there is little question on what side of the square he would be standing. He’d never thought to be just another noble in the crowd, let alone of the very same crowd that is watching the Knife of Dunwall walking onto the pedestal with bated breath. 

If it wasn’t for Daud’s eyes, his expression, Thomas would think that the last six months in Coldridge did not treat him too terrible. He is thin, but not sickly so, he moves like he is exhausted to the core and as if the chains weight a ton but not injured, his face is clean and shaved but the skin was cut several times around the scar. Even his hair is short, shorter than Daud would have chosen for himself but Thomas supposes the choice, if he’d had one, was that or nothing. 

A murmur goes through the crowd, hushed whispers between nobles and commoners alike. No doubt brought on by the sight of Daud’s left hand coming into view when he is turned towards the crowd by a jerk on his chains. 

The mark stands out with its perfect blackness on the inflamed, swollen skin of Daud’s hand. Purple and green bruises running up along the veins to his elbow, a few even vanishing under the half-length sleeve of his prison garb. 

Thomas isn’t sure if he is glad or disappointed that Daud doesn’t scan the crowd, doesn’t see him. He somehow wants him to know that Thomas has tried everything in his power and name to turn the tides in Daud’s favour, to at least delay it until he and the few remaining Whalers have figured out a solution. Ultimately, he failed. That much is obvious and that is also the reason that Thomas quietly hopes that Daud _won’t_ see or recognise him, because Thomas doesn’t think he could keep his expression frozen on ‘mild disinterest’ if he gave Daud hope. By the Void, he’d probably start crying then and there. 

Someone’s shoulder brushes Thomas’ as Daud’s crimes are being read out, a seemingly endless list that drones on and on. 

“You’re one of his, aren’t you?” 

Thomas turns his head so fast his neck pinches and stares at the man beside him. “Lord Protector,” he greets, “I’m not sure what I did to warrant such a grave accusation.” 

“Your effort was commendable, Lord Carmine," Lord Attano continues, “You must be very loyal to place yourself into the proverbial lion’s den, but unfortunately for you, I was not going to let him go unpunished.”

Thomas can feel the blood drain from his face, his fingers turning ice cold and he can barely get out a hoarse, “I suppose,” past the lump in his throat.

The Lord Protector looks back up to Daud, his face impassive, almost bored, “Do you want him once we are done here?”

“What?” Thomas asks, unable to keep the bewilderment off of his face. 

“It only seems right he’d be with someone who knows him, no?”

Thomas clenches his eyes shut and tries to think of what Daud would want from a burial, wishes he could ask him but all there is to do is guess. It would certainly be better than to land in the Coldridge graveyard without so much as a name on the headstone. So he nods stiffly, makes sure to keep himself breathing evenly. If this is all he can do, then he will. 

“Good,” Lord Attano replies and hold his left hand out for Thomas to shake as if this was a simple business transaction and not the negotiations on what happens to the corpse of the man Thomas trusts and cares for the most, whom he will watch die in minutes knowing he has failed him like he never has before. 

_This is so wrong._ Thomas thinks as he grips his hand, but instead of shaking on it Attano’s fingers squeeze tight and their eyes meet. Thomas suddenly feels a hot-cold sensation crawling along his fingers and over his wrist. A stinging pain like holding ice for too long in your palm, like trying to use the arcane bond when you’ve already exhausted yourself beyond your limits. 

Lord Attano pulls back and smiles at Thomas, who is rubbing his left hand through the fine, fitted gloves he wears to hide the pale grey lines that never vanished, feels the Void crackle under his skin, heady, powerful and invasive like Daud’s bond never had.

Only then does Thomas realise that standing on the man’s other side is none other than the Empress herself. Tall and regal, much like her protector, and watching him with some level of disdain.

Thomas turns to face the execution podium again, unable to take his eyes off of Daud, to look away from the sight that is his boss, his mentor, his confidant kneeling down for the decapitation, a classic death sentence for regicide, without so much as letting his posture slump. Instead, he simply keeps his head held high and shoulders straight as if he isn’t facing his end. His eyes are focused on some point slightly above and beyond the crowd. 

Thomas doesn’t understand how one can be so stone-faced when death is only moments away and he wants to look away, to avert his eyes but he can’t. He is physically unable, he can’t so much as close his eyes other than to blink and then he realises that this is Attano’s doing as he can _taste_ the Void on his tongue like ash and ozone when he means to speak but his mouth won’t open. 

An Overseer moves up to Daud, a large, ornate bearded Axe in hand with the Abbey’s symbol engraved in it. 

Thomas moves a step back, feels the magic struggle to hold him, feels it burn up as it controls him, the executioner takes his stance at Daud's side and Thomas hopes, prays that he can exhaust it before he is made to watch this, though it seems impossible as Attano places his hand on Thomas’ back. 

From the outside, it must look like the gallant Lord Protector is simply supporting a faint-hearted noble. On the inside, Thomas wants to burn the offending appendage and feels strangely betrayed at the same time. He’d _liked_ Attano despite his cool, calculating demeanor, perhaps even because of it.

The axe swings up, halts as it reaches its highest point and the world turns grey as silence falls. 

Attano’s hand pushes Thomas forward and finally, he is allowed to move, trips a step forward and whirls around to face him but before he can get a word out the Protector points at him and says, “You owe me.”

Thomas doesn’t need to be told twice as he turns around and sprints to the podium. That Daud is frozen in time as well is a testament to the state his mark must be in, though Thomas is still able to move him, to pull an arm around his shoulders and lift him into a fireman’s carry.

“There’s a boat on the other side of this wall, he’ll take you to the Carmine manor, ” Attano calls and Thomas looks over to him, shocked to see that the Empress too is unaffected by time standing still and to see her hand glow as she turns away from a second, genially smiling Thomas Carmine, that took his place next to the Lord Protector. 

She looks over to him, wiggles her fingers in a wave at Thomas. Attano pulls out a flask and drinks until his mark is flaring brighter. 

The other side of the wall, Thomas thinks and wishes he could still transverse. Though the arcane bond had dried up when Daud got captured but it was still _there_ it just had no power because Thomas has no magic of his own to channel and he wonders- 

He pulls off the glove and clenches his fist, feels Void burn under his skin as if resisting but the lines light up anyway. Bright blue where it had only ever been yellow but Thomas aims for the top of the wall, lets out a breath, and transverses for the first time in over half a year. 

An impressed whistle sounds in the square as Thomas spots the boatman far below and aims again.

Mid transversal time resumes and his magic cuts out, leaving Thomas and Daud to free fall a few meters into the water. Stunned by the impact and Daud's moving abruptly pushes him further down into the river before he is grabbed by something, someone, pulled up until he breaches the surface of the water, gasping for air and grabbing the side of the small riverboat. 

“Come on up, before the hagfish get you,” an old man says as he holds on with one hand to Thomas’ sleeve and with the other Daud’s wrist as he leans back to counterbalance them, as not to tip over the boat.

“What the _fuck_?!” Daud rasps and pulls himself up, looks between the man and Thomas like they’re foreign creatures before he grabs Thomas and pulls him in too. 

“Put these on,” the boatman hands over two coats, one brown, one black, and throws on the motor. Not a moment later Coldridge’s sirens start blaring as one. 

“You’re absolutely mad,” Daud declares, “and what in the Void are you _wearing_.”

Thomas can’t help but laugh, tired and so, so relieved. Whatever the Lord Protector has planned for him, he’ll do it. He’ll do it gladly. 

"Welcome back, sir."

**Author's Note:**

> About what Corvo did:
> 
> For this fic I headcanon that the 'Summon Swarm' is more a 'Assume Control of'.  
> Essentially when he summons a swarm he assumes physical/emotional control of rats around him, making them swarm to him and make them aggressive towards whom/what he wants (instead of 'spawning' rats at random).  
> With the years his power grew until he could assume similar-ish control of people, just like possession starts out with smaller creatures and can later be extended to people with limitations.
> 
> I imagine it takes a ton of mana, only works for a very short time and has limited effect on people.


End file.
